


This Secrets Within Us

by ShadeNeverMadeAnybodyLessGay



Series: Didn't See You For Ages, Didn't Pick Up Your Phone [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Lydia Martin Friendship, Allison Argent Lives, Allison just wants her best friend back, Alternate Universe - Human, And Stiles has two arms, And make sure she's okay, BAMF Lydia Martin, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Coping Mechanisms, Despite the tags this a very fluffy story, Endgame Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Everyone just wants to protect lydia, F/F, F/M, Family Secrets, Hurt Lydia Martin, I promise, Lydia Martin & Scott McCall Friendship, Lydia Martin Leaves Beacon Hills, Lydia Martin-centric, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski Fluff, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski in Love, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski-centric, Lydia is a traumatised puppy, Lydia martin needs a hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Allison Argent, Protective Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Protective Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall Ships Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is in love with Lydia Martin, Stiles just wants Lydia to be okay, Stydia, Stydia fluff, The martins are rich, Trust Issues, Will add additional warnings if necessary at the beginning of a chapter, she just needs love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeNeverMadeAnybodyLessGay/pseuds/ShadeNeverMadeAnybodyLessGay
Summary: The Martins packed up and left Beacon Hills one night, without any warning or saying goodbye.Numerous theories went around town, and it became a famous story within the students of Beacon Hills High School; all newcomers were told the story of the family, who still owned the only house in the suburbs, and who left in a hurry, as if they were running away from something; from someone.It's been ten years, yet the myth seems to get stronger each passing day. The police are constantly called to the Martin Residence, to swap away high-schoolers who try to break in to finally solve the mystery.Then, during senior year, Lydia Martin in the flesh walks past the High-school doors, stunning everyone, leaving everyone wondering and guessing. Especially a certain Stiles Stilinski, who wants to solve the mystery of who is Lydia.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura
Series: Didn't See You For Ages, Didn't Pick Up Your Phone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198496
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	1. Never Made it Back Home

"Did you hear?" a whispered echo sounded against the majority of Beacon Hills High School. The first day of class after the summer break brought with it the common murmur of teenagers sharing stories about their holidays, but that year the conversation drifted from it, instead going to a pretty recurrent topic within the walls of the only highschool in town.

"Hear what?" was the common response. Everyone either knew, or was desperate to find out; it was like they could feel the buzzing around them, the students getting ready for an unusual day back at learning about math and history. Everyone, teachers included, seem to know something big was going to happen.

"What is going on today?" asked Stiles Stilinski, struggling to open the front doors of the place with only one hand. His best friend hurried to help him, but Stiles was already walking inside. He stopped a few meters away from his locker, taking a look around, seeing everyone talking in hushed voices instead of the normal, loud ones that could only mean a group of teenagers were nearby.

"Beats me," said Scott McCall, shaking head to show he really didn't care about the newest gossip that had reached the halls.

"Hey," Stiles, the forever curious boy, approached two girls that were talking with each other in whispers, leaning against the lockers. "Hey," he said again, this time catching their attention. "Do you know what everyone is talking about?"

The girls looked at each other and then focused their analyzing stares on Stiles, who scratched the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable with their scrutiny. "As if we would tell you, weirdo." Laughing, they left the boy standing and walked away from him.

"You had it coming, mate," said Scott, tapping him in the back. "Don't worry, I bet someone has just made up they managed to finally sneak into the Martin Residence like it happened with Matt Daehler in Freshman year to sit with the popular guys during lunch."

"God, they need to learn how to drop a topic," rolled his eyes Stiles, who did not like talking about the Martin's as much as everyone else in town, because it reminded him of his school crush and because it was a mystery even he, future detective, could not solve no matter how hard he tried. And that bothered him much more that he would ever like to admit.

"Stop acting like you don't have that crime board about the case still hiding in your closet," laughed Scott, wrapping his arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Oh, shush, I know you've tried to befriend Lydia Martin on Facebook hundreds of times," he shot back. "Which is stupid, by the way. Who even uses Facebook nowadays?"

"My mom," he responded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And I didn't do it to solve a mystery, it was out of genuine concern, to know how she's doing."

"Yeah, yeah; you're such a saint. And well,

I know, she posts baby pictures of you all the time. You used to be _so_ _adorable_."

"Hey, I'm still adorable," he puffed his chest.

"Of course you are," said a voice to Stiles' left. He felt Scott leaving his side and he could not help but roll his eyes as he watched his best friend hug his girlfriend, Allison Argent. They share a soft kiss, and Stiles faked an attack of retching.

"Oh not this again, I'm done. Goodbye," he started to walk to his first class, Math, even if there was still a little over ten minutes before it started. However, Allison grabbed onto his backpack and pushed him so he was standing by Scott's side again. "Please, Allison, have mercy on my poor heart-"

"Stop being overdramatic," cut in Scott.

"Yeah, you're going to want to hear it," said the girl, smiling. "Kira asked her dad what everyone is talking about today and he told her, and then she told me. But," she raised a hand and stared at her painted nails. "If you're in such a hurry to get to class, I'll just tell you after school. Don't let me stop you from getting an education."

Scott smiled, completely aware of what his girlfriend was trying to do. Getting on Stiles' nerves was easy (all it really took was a few vague answers and he was set into motion), but Allison had a hidden talent of doing it so easily it almost looked like Stiles did it on purpose.

"What?" he all but screamed, looking between Scott and Allison. "Tell me!"

"Admit we're not gross," said Allison.

"You can't ask me to lie in your face so carelessly," gasped Stiles. After a staredown, he sighed. "Okay, fine you're not gross, my virgin eyes can't stand love when I look right into it, that's all."

Allison smiled, happy with his words. She stepped closer to the boys, created a small circle, and then started to talk in a hushed voice. "Apparently Greenberg ran past the Martin Residence this morning while he was walking his little sister's dog and saw two moving trucks there."

Stiles looked at Scott, and then at the girl. "But Greenberg-"

"Can't be trusted, I know. But a lot of people have gone to check it and it's true," she got her phone out, unlocked it and tapped on the screen a few times before showing it to Stiles. "See?" on the screen there was a photo of the Martin Residence, with it's gate opened after ten years of being closed shut. Just like she had said, two trucks were piled against the door of the gate, stopping any curious eyes to see any further.

"Oh my god," said Stiles. "They sold the house?"

"Yes," nodded Allison, locking her phone.

"What a shame," commented Scott, eyes on the floor. That the Martins had got rid of the only tie they had left in Beacon Hills definitely wasn't taken well by the boy, who still held a flicker of hope of maybe seeing Lydia Martin again, who used to be his childhood friend right before she left. It was before he met Stiles that he befriended Lydia, who was sassy and funny when needed, but loving as well. Then, a five years-old Allison came into the mix one day with fake swords to play with and they became the golden trio, but that was before that day. The day his mother woke him up earlier that he usually got up to go to class to tell him that Lydia's family had left town; he had cried and ran to her house, to find it almost empty. Later that same month, Stiles greeted them one day to ask about her, and they instantly became friends.

"I know, Scott," said Allison, her playful move leaving fast when she realised what he was thinking. "But maybe we can find her still," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"It's fine," said the boy finally, raising his head to smile at the two of them. "It was bound to happen sooner or later anyways. This is just the confirmation I was dreading."

"Okay," said Stiles, playing with his backpack. "Let's go to class."

* * *

Scott rested his head on the pillow for what seemed like the millionth time that night. His mind kept racing, going back and forth, over and over the conversation he had with Stiles and Allison before class.

After school, he had rushed to his locker, where he had put a few books in and gotten out others he would never for homework and had left in a hurry after sending a message to Allison telling he was going to stop by the diner in town to get his mother lunch, not in the mood to keep talking about the Martins.

But after visiting his mother at work, he had gone home, completely alone. Trying to distract himself, he did all the homework that was due, took a shower, tidied up his room and made dinner for when his mother arrived, but of course he had managed to burn down the spaghetti the first try. By the time Melissa was back, he had a plate full of Chinese takeout waiting for her.

Thank god his mother appreciated his gesture nonetheless.

A small, clicking sound took him out of his wondering. He got up and looked at the window, where the sound was coming from. He opened it just as a small rock went flying, hitting him in the face.

"Ouch," he said, touching his forehead. "Yo, Stiles, what the fuck?"

The boy stood by his window, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, dude," he said in a hushed voice, not to avoid getting caught but aware Scott's mother was resting just a few feet up from him. "C'mon, Malia, Kira and Allison are in the jeep."

He nodded, walked away from the window and then stopped in the middle of his room, a hoodie in hand. He hurried back to the window.

"Why are they in the jeep? And why are _you_ here?" he asked in the same whispered scream they had mastered over the years.

"We're going to the Martin Residence," he said, flapping his hands around. "Let's go, I don't wanna wake up your mom!"

"But-" he stopped, contemplating his options. He knew Stiles would never leave without him, and the last his mother needed was getting the little sleep she could get interrupted by his teenage adventures. "Okay," he sighed, putting the hoodie over his head and jumping off the window, not wanting to risk waking up his mother by using the front door.

"Yay," said Stiles in a high-pitched voice, not stopping to see if the boy had landed well before he was running to the jeep.

"Hey," said Scott once he was sitting shotgun in the jeep, turning his body slightly to see his girlfriend and his other two friends. "What are you guys planning, exactly? I hope it's nothing disrespectful-"

"We just want to go and ask if the new owners have any contact numbers they can handle. Everything is completely legal. Trust me, I know the law."

"And why are we doing it at three in the morning, then?"

"Well," Stiles kept his gaze on the road, but took one hand off the wheel to point at the hand-made radio he had on the front of the car. Just by looking at it, Scott felt dread and a rush of adrenaline all at the same time. The problems that radio had got them into, and the problems it had saved them from… He didn't even want to stop and think about it. "You see, since the Martins selling the house is the only thing everyone is talking about, they're doing patrol around the house."

"That's reassuring, Stiles," said Kira, apparently unaware of that little detail.

"Leave it to Stilinski to forget to mention something as important as that," Malia rolled her eyes, raising her hand and punching him in the shoulder.

"Hey!" he said. "No abusing the driver. Do you want me to crash the car?"

"It would be a good thing, actually," said Allison, running a hand through the ceiling of the car. "This thing is older than all of us, _combined_."

Stiles gasped, and ran his hand through the wheel in a loving matter. "Don't listen to the mean girls, baby, you're perfect just the way you are."

"Gross," said Scott.

"But, as I was saying," he said, straightening up his posture. "I heard on the radio they are changing guard at three a.m., which gives us ten minutes to sneak into the house and take a look around. If Parrish is on duty together, we might even get fifteen 'cause he always drives super slow."

"I gotta admit, I'm impressed," said Allison, nodding.

"Don't be. Being friends with the Sheriff's kid can be pretty tiring," said Malia.

"Hey, you weren't complaining last month when I got you off that ticket for driving too fast."

"Kira said she was home alone, what did you expect me to do?" said Malia, throwing her hands in the air.

"Oh, god. Oh, god," moaned Stiles as Kira buried her face in her hands. "That's too much information, Malia. Just because you were homeschooled doesn't mean you don't know the basics in how much you should share with your friends about your sex life."

"Well, at least I have a girlfriend I can have sex with."

"That's a low blow and you know it."

"Oh, is it?"

"Yes-"

"Shut up," said Kira, face completely red.

"Yeah, we're almost there, and this car is recognizable. Pack by those trees."

"It's recognizable 'cause it's the only one left of those still running," murmured Malia.

"You, Tate, are in deep trouble," bit back Stiles, but once he had stopped the car he raised his head to look at Malia through the rear mirror, who smiled playfully at him, indicating they were still on good terms.

"Okay, now what?" Scott put his hand in his mouth, covering a yaw.

"It's 59, we just have to wait a little…" he got out of the car, and everyone followed his actions, closing the doors silently. As they hid behind the car so they couldn't be seen from the road, they waited until red and blue flashing lights lit up the darkness. "Now. Go!"

They all ran until they were in front of the gates. Once there, they stopped in front of them.

"Now what?" asked Kira, breathing fast.

"That's a good question."

"Stiles!" gasped Allison, looking angry. "You didn't plan this through?"

"Well," he said scratching the back of his head. "To be honest I didn't think we would make it up here without getting caught."

"You're impossible, Stiles," said Kira, who unconsciously raised a hand to rest it on the gate. She leaned on it, trying to gain some strength back, but instead she fell to the ground, a small metallic sound catching everyone's attention. "That hurt," she said, grabbing Malia's hand to get up.

"The gates," said Scott, looking at it. "They're open."

"This is a signal from God," said Stiles, ignoring everyone's voices as he stepped inside the place, looking up at the stars as if they had been behind all that. "I don't know about you, but _I_ am going to be a good samaritan and let the owners know they left their gates opened at night."

The rest of the group looked at each other, contemplating what to do. But they did not have to think much; they all rushed inside, not wanting to miss the chance to meet their new neighbours. Maybe, if they were nice, they would give them an email or a phone number they could call…

Once everyone was standing by the door, Stiles rang the bell a few times, a pleasant smile on his face. After the fourth time, however, he checked his watch and sighed. "Well, at least we tried. We better get back, we have only five minutes before the next round comes."

Everyone decided to walk away from the door, sad and disappointed looks on their faces. They were so close to finding a way to reach the girl…

As they walked away, something at the corner of his eye caught Scott's attention. He quickly turned around, and saw one of the windows on the second floor was illuminated. He stopped dead on his tracks, head raised to look at it. His heart skipped a beat as he remembered that that used to be her room back when the family still lived in town.

"Guys," he said, almost breathless, as he saw movement coming from the window. The group turned to look at him and following his raised hand, that was pointing at the window, in time to see a figure step into view.

A girl with vibrant red hair, illuminated by the lights. She was around their age, a little on the short side for what Scott could tell, but as he looked at her face, poorly illuminated by the light, he couldn't help but gasp.

 _Lydia Martin was staring right back at them_.

"Lydia?" whispered Allison, walking closer to the house. Just like that, the girl stepped away from the window and pushed the curtains close.


	2. Back to Basics

"The Martins didn't sell the house," said Stiles, laying on Scott's bed. He had woken up early (that was a lie, he had spent the rest of the night dusting off his crime board, adding and removing things from it). When the sun had started to show its face, he had taken a quick shower and rushed to the McCall house, with pancakes and coffee for Melissa. "They have moved back into town."

Scott did not know what to think. The girl he used to spend days on no end with, who always invited him to use her swimming pool on the summers when it was too hot outside, and then offered him to stay over and throw a sleepover party with Allison, that same girl had been looking at him like he despised him.

And the worst part was, he did not know what he had done to have her look at him like that.

"Scott?" said Stiles, touching his shoulder lightly. It was no surprise that seeing Lydia again would be shocking for everyone, but Scott seemed to be more affected than the rest.

"The way she looked at me," he said, eyes unfocused on a far away point of his room. The same eerie feeling that kept nagging at him since they left the Residence came back at full force, and it stunned him as if it had gained a form and had physically slapped him in the face. "I don't know, man, but it felt like she hated me or something. I don't know how to explain it properly."

"Well, it was dark outside and she was on the second floor. Plus, that house is, like, super big. I'm surprised they keep calling it Residence and not a mansion. But anyways, that you could ever see her face is an actual miracle, let alone knowing how she was looking at you like. I just think you're being paranoid. After all, you've seen your childhood friend after not talking with her in a really long time. Maybe that's what you saw, the past of time made shocked you."

"No, no," he shook his head, laying completely in bed by Stiles' side. "It wasn't the way she looked at me, it was… I don't know, I felt like I wasn't wanted there, and I've always felt welcome at the Martin Residence."

"Well, it's been ten years, maybe she has changed," Stiles swallowed hard, the thought of the sweet yet a little bit rude (just enough to make her endearingly annoying) girl no longer being that way, her face still the same minus the chubby cheeks no longer being there, when he had always kept her in the back of his head… It was  _ not _ a nice feeling. "Or maybe you're reading too much into it. It was just a few seconds, man. We can ask her in school."

"What?" he sat down in bed in a rush, turning his neck slightly to stare at the boy. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he got up as well, finally giving up on the intention of sleeping a little before they had to go to class. "There is only one school in this town, and it doesn't offer homeschooling after middle school. That's why Malia is in here but we never met her until Freshman years, even if she was born in Beacon Hills like us," he spoke slowly, knowing Scott was agitated and bound to not completely comprehend what he was saying if he started talking fast like he tended to do sometimes.

"So, she's going to be with us," he said, something like hope dancing in his voice. "That means we can talk with her; ask her about this whole mess with her family…"

"Well, we better start getting ready for that then, because I know for a fact there's going to be a cue of people wanting to find out about the Martin Mystery first."

Scott cursed under his breath. Damn this town full of gossip.

"Is that Stiles who I heard?" Melissa knocked on the door, and the mentioned boy got up quickly to open it for her.

"The one and only, Lis," he smiled, taking an overly exaggerated bow. "There's pancakes and coffee for you in the kitchen just for you, courtesy of this handsome guy over ever," he pointed at himself with his thumb, and Melissa raised a hand to rub his hair, but pulled away after a few seconds.

"Too much hair gel," she said with a fake disgusted face. "Thank you so much, Stiles. It's good to have two boys taking care of me."

"Well, get used to it," smiled Stiles, following her out of the room.

Sometimes the boy wondered if Stiles still was not aware that Melissa was Scott's mom and not his.

* * *

After talking for a few minutes with Melissa as she ate her breakfast, obviously excluding their last night shenanigans and justifying their tiredness on the excitement of being back to school, Stiles and Scott got into the jeep and stopped by Allison's house to pick her up on their way to school. She also looked tired when the car stopped in front of her house, if the bags under her eyes could be any indication, and Scott could only guess what had kept her up all night.

"Rough night?" asked Stiles, who was scratching a mole on his arm. Scott when he saw it, slapped his hand. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You can't do that!" he said, sounding equally offended at Stiles for having the nerve to question him. "You heard my mom, you do that because of the anxiety and that's not good. You need to find better coping mechanisms."

"Because of the anxiety," he said with a mocking tone as Allison finished fastening her seat bell.

"Stiles, he does it for your own good," she said, in what sounded oddly like a motherly tone. "And Scott, be more gentle with him when you're talking about that subject."

"Great, now you got my girlfriend to mother me around," complained Scott. "I hate you."

"I love you too," he pouted his lips, making exaggerated kissing sounds before Allison punched him on the shoulder.

"Go on, I don't want to be late on the second day."

Stiles touched the spot where she had hit him, and faked a hurt face even though she had not really hurt him at all. "I'm being constantly abused by this little group of bullies."

"Stop being such a drama queen and go, we have Algebra during first period and the teacher is a mean bitch."

"Miss Stuart," Scott rolled his eyes. "God, I think it would be better if you were late. She hates me."

"Stop being melodramatic."

"No, Ally, I mean it. She goes out of her way to ridicule me."

"Because you suck at math and she can tell."

"Hey!" Scott said, a hand on his chest as he turned as much as the seat belt allowed to look at his girlfriend. "I don't suck, I'm just not super good at it. Malia sucks more and she never calls her to the backboard to solve the hardest equations."

Allison faked a pout, grabbing his cheek in between her point finger and thumb. "That's because Malia sits with Kira in that class and Miss Stuart thinks she's tutoring her."

"That's lesbian privilege," he murmured, turning back around.

"And I'm here for it," said Allison.

* * *

Malia and Kira were waiting for them by the Algebra class, which they all shared. Of course, Kira looked as if last night had not happened at all, looking completely well-rested and dandy, and received them all with a smile on her face and a little wave.

"How are you guys doing?" asked Kira, always the concerned friend.

Malia, however, took one look at them and said: "You all look like complete shit." Kira slapped her girlfriend in the arm, scandalized by her language and boldness, but did not try to deny her statement.

Stiles rolled his eyes, because no matter how tired he was, he was always in the mood for a little argument with Malia. "Thanks, Tate. That is  _ exactly _ what I wanted to hear at eight in to morning on a fucking Tuesday."

The girl raised her shoulders, either not wanting to get into a verbal fight at the moment or unaware of his sarcasm. "You're welcome."

"Ugh. Now Malia is acting like a normal human being. What the hell is wrong with this world?" said Stiles, walking into class. The rest of them followed him, all walking to the back of the class to claim the table by the window. They sat in silence, and looked at each other for a few tense seconds before they all started talking at the same time.

"What the fuck happened last night?" said Malia.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Kira.

"Guys, I think there's something going on with the Martins…" murmured Scott, the nagging feeling still present, as if it was living within her bones.

"I haven't been able to sleep at all," commented Allison.

"My crime board is back, baby!" smiled Stiles, pointing gun fingers all around before resting his head against his hands at the back of his head.

Everyone stopped talking, and Allison gave him a hard look. "Do you think all of this is just a joke, Stiles?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The boy dropped his hands and put them back on the table, the smile on his face completely disappearing. "No, of course not, Ally. I- uh, I'm sorry if it sounded like it was. I am just happy you guys are going to get the chance of talking to Lydia again," he said, playing with his fingers.

Allison pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed. "No, no, Stiles, I  _ am _ sorry. It's just- This is too much to take in in so little time. I'm sorry I let my anger out on you. You didn't deserve that."

"I kind of did," said the boy. "I was being obnoxious and wasn't thinking about how this could be affecting the lot of you."

"Hey, this is also affecting you," said Scott softly. "I know you weren't exactly her friend, but you definitely had a crush on her. It must be weird for you, too."

"Yeah, a little," he looked at the pattern the wood on the table made, and ran his fingers around it. "But, well, it is how it is."

Everyone nodded, and after a tense silence Kira talked, apparently remembering something: "Hey, what did you mean when you said we will be getting a chance to speak with Lydia again?"

Stiles and Scott looked at each other, smiling. "Well," said Scott. "Stiles mentioned this morning that this is the only school in town, and it doesn't offer homeschooling. So it means-"

"That Lydia will come back to school," said Allison in a staged whisper, looking as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs. "Holy shit."

"Yep," nodded Stiles.

"Well, let's drop the subject for now," said Malia, opening her bag and getting her school supplies out. "The teacher is here."

They all copied her actions, and waited until the class had filled in with the rest of the students.

"Hello, class. I'm Miss Stuart," said the woman, dropping her bag on her desk. "McCall, go do exercise three from page ten on the backboard, if you are so kind."

Scott opened his book, gave his friends a look and said, "I told you!" before he got up and walked away, pretending not to hear his friends laughing at him.

* * *

The rest of the week went by, and once the weekend had arrived, they got all together in Allison's house. Stiles got his crime board, that ended the weekend being thrown out of the window by Malia, claiming he was being invasive and disrespectful.

Stiles simply left the house and came back a few minutes later with the board under his arm like nothing had happened.

Once Monday officially started, the entire group was cramped down on Stiles' jeep on their way to school.

"And I'm telling you,  _ Malia _ , that it's not invasive when it's part of a criminal case," said Stiles.

Malia rolled her eyes. "And  _ I  _ am telling you, Stilinski, that just because  _ you _ consider it a criminal case doesn't mean it  _ is _ a criminal case."

Allison rolled her eyes. "My God, stop arguing about it. We all know how Stiles can be sometimes."

"Yeah, but-"

"Just drop it, Malia," said Kira.

"Okay, fine, whatever."

The rest of the trip was filled with small, easy talk between everyone. Stiles, however, remained quiet, his fingers drumming against the wheel, completely lost in thought.

Once they walked into the building, they all took the same path as always; going from one locker to another before stopping by the last one, Allison's, since it was the closest to their first class.

Kira checked her watch, and smiled a little. "We have a few minutes before we have to go to class," she informed them.

Stiles felt a chill run down his spine, and he instinctively turned around to stare at the doors. Everyone, noticing his behaviour, looked as well.

"Stiles?" asked Scott. "Man, are you okay? What's-"

His voice died down in his throat as he saw ginger hair walking down the street towards the front doors of Beacon Hills High School. Everyone in the hall went completely quiet, and students and a few teachers left the classroom to stare at the girl, who had just entered the place.

She stopped by the door, took a look around aware of the stares, and simply walked past all of them to the secretary office.

A murmur began once she turned on the hallways. Everyone seemed to be whispering the same.

"Lydia Martin is back to school."


	3. Talking Shit is Cheap

"She is here," whispered a boy in complete awe after Lydia had walked to the secretary's office. Everyone seemed to be keeping the same, hushed tone; as if they could not hold the words out, but were afraid they might get caught.

"The Martins _are back_ ," said another person within the hundreds of different voices that were all commenting what they had just witnessed.

"My lord," said a teacher by one of the doors, no doubt having left the class to peek a look at the strawberry blonde. "Poor kid."

Scott grabbed Allison's hand, and pushed her through the crowd until they had left the hall and were standing in front of the closed door. His heart was beating as if it wanted to leave his chest, and the air in his lungs was not enough to keep him from passing out.

It felt like a dream. Or a nightmare, he was not sure yet.

Allison swallowed, intertwining her fingers with his, and stared at the door, unaware of the rest of the people standing there. Apart from Stiles, Malia and Kira, a small crowd had gathered around the door too, all trying to get a glism of the girl whose family had been the favorite topic of conversation within those very same halls she had just walked by.

The door opened suddenly, and a girl stood there, momentarily stunned by the group that had formed around the office. She was wearing a white dress with red flowers stamped around its length, high heels in the same color and red lipstick. She looked like those girls in movies that are always popular and mean, but Scott knew different.

"Lydia," he said, taking a small step to approach her. The secretary, Mr Evans (a tall yet skinny guy with glasses that were constantly slipping down the bridge of his nose), walked between them, creating a little barrier between the crowd and Lydia. "Please, I just need-"

"To talk with her, right? Yeah, I can guess," he said, his voice rough. "Give her some space, won't ya?" he waved his arms around to give more strength to his statement, and stared at Allison when she ignored his words completely and walked up to the girl.

"Lydia," she said, something of a desperate tone in her voice. "Please, talk to me-"

"Hey, if she doesn't want to talk with you, you can't force her to," said the man, gently resting his hand on Allison's shoulder. The rest of the students had taken a few steps back, deciding detention was not worthy just to look at a girl who clearly did not want to be seen.

Allison looked at Lydia, who had stopped staring at the piece of paper she had in her hands and dug her stare in Allison, and then Scott. She opened her mouth, and her tongue made an aparance to link her lips, to wet them enough. It was as if she was considering her words, eyes still going back and forth between the couple before they set on Stiles. Her eyes hardener considerably, and she cleared her throat before she said:

"I don't know them."

With that, she walked away, still holding on for dear life to the piece of paper she had in her hands, her steps rushed as she tried to get away from their scrutiny.

Allison stared at the almost gone form of Lydia, eyes filled with sadness and tears. She thought back to the last time she saw her, so full of life and happiness. But that image of her had trembled down, had been completely destroyed by the new Lydia, a girl that was more of a ghost from the past than an actual human being.

"What the fuck?" said Scott once they were all gone, the bell no doubt seconds away from ringing. He walked up to Allison and wrapped his arms around her, letting her rest her head on his chest.

"It's okay," said Allison after a few seconds, using her boyfriend's body to discreetly dry her tears so that the rest of the group could not see her. After gathering herself back together, and a few sniffles the others pretended not to hear, she smiled. "Let's go to class."

* * *

Stiles had decided numbers were not worth it to stay in class for. He had enough on his plate, trying to solve a mystery, to waste an entire hour pretending he was not asleep behind his math book. Besides, the first three weeks with Mrs Brook were always for catching up with the previous material from previous courses, and lucky for him he had that completely covered.

The boy kept walking until he was in the library, his favorite place in the entire school, not because of the many books available or the chances to study in peace, but because of the quiet it kept within its walls.

The perfect place to take a quick nap.

As he expected, once he walked through the doors, there was no one else in there. Of course, no student had to use the library in the second week of class; if they had a free period, they just went to the cafeteria like normal people did.

But the girl who seemed to be hiding from the rest of the world did not necessarily count as normal, at least not from Stiles' point of view.

Lydia was sitting on the floor, back against a bookcase. She had earphones on, and a book was resting on her lap. From what Stiles could tell, it looked like it was written in a different and strange language.

"What are you reading?" he asked, standing right in front of her. The girl took her time in getting her phone out of the pocket of her dress, unlocking it and pausing the music. Once she did all that, she sighed.

"Now what?" she asked, but she did not sound angry like before, just completely drained of energy.

"I asked you a question," he said, playing with the strings of his bag.

"So did I," she bit mark. "What, want to throw a banana at me to see if I can peel it or something? That'd be new."

Stiles swallowed, confused. "Why would I do that?" he asked, looking horrified.

"Well, everyone seems to be treating me like I'm part of a zoo, so who knows," her head was still facing the book laying across her lap. She had not raised it to look at him.

"Oh, that," he said, changing his weight from one foot to the other. After an awkward silence, he settled for sitting down against the bookcase opposite to hers. He crossed his legs awkwardly, since they were too long and he was not entirely sure of how she felt about human contact from people who were not close to her. "I thought you had x-ray eyes or something."

The girl got a notebook out of her messenger bag, and rested it against her right leg. She started scribbling down on it. "And why would you think that?" she said, scaring Stiles, who was too busy being mesmerised by the soft red curls that kept cascading down her pale neck. God, after ten years she still managed to take his breath away without even trying.

"Because my dad gave me a banana this morning to have during lunch," he said, and to prove his point he opened his bag and got a banana out, showing it proudly as he smiled.

He did not notice, but behind the curtain of her hair, she was smiling softly at his words. Had been ever since he sat down across from her.

"You're left-handed," he commented after a while of just staring at her as she worked on whatever she was doing; what could involve an ancient language anyways?

"You have an awful need to comment on the most obvious things in the entire world, have you ever been told?" she said, holding onto her pen tighter.

"Well, my dad does say I can be a handful sometimes," he scratched the back of his head, unsure of whether or not the girl was angry at him.

"Only sometimes?" she asked rhetorically.

Stiles crooked his neck to try and see what she was reading, but as if she could tell what he was doing, she put a hand on the page the notebook was not covering so he could not tell what she was doing. He rolled his eyes, but rested his body back against the bookcase, understanding he had crosh a boundary he shouldn't have crossed. "Sorry," he whispered. Unaware of what to do after being caught doing exactly what every student in Beacon Hills had done since she had come back, he simply cleared his throat. "So, why weren't you at school last week?" he asked after putting the banana back into his bag, giving up on getting Lydia to look at him. It was not like he was going to force her; if she did not want to, then there was nothing he could do about it.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you were keeping such a big tab on me," she commented, sighed, and scribbled something down on the paper. "What, want to solve the mystery before anyone else does?" there was a painful mix of bitterness and playfulness in her voice, and Stiles bit his lip, knowing if he denied what she said, he would be a liar. So instead, he kept quiet. "Thought so," she whispered as she closed her notebook and shoved it back into her messenger bag. She slammed the book shut, creating an echo, and got up so fast Stiles had to blink a few times at the empty space had just been using until he realised she was gone.

"Wait!" he said, forgetting about his backpack as he got up in a hurry. He ran to her, who was already standing by the doors. She stopped there, hand on door to push it open, and when he saw she wasn't leaving, he took it as an invitation to keep talking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it look like I'm just here because I want to know about your family. I mean, as a future detective it does bother me that I can't solve this case but I genuinely want to get to know you. You, uh- You probably don't remember me, but we were in kindergarten and middle school together before you left. And Scott and Allison, they're my friends, and since they consider you their friend, so do I. And… That's it, I think."

"Future detective, uh?" through the glass doors, Stiles could see a small smile on her face before she lowered it down. "I had to attend a funeral," she said, pushing the door open.

"What?" he asked, completely taken back.

"You asked why I wasn't at school last week. I was answering your question."

* * *

"So she's not any of your classes either?" asked Stiles, leaning against the jeep, hands shoved in his pocket.

"Sadly no," said Allison, who still looked a little down from the encounter earlier. Having your childhood best friend look at you as if you were a complete stranger was a hard thing to swallow.

"You probably won't," said Kira, walking up to them with Malia and Scott. Allison turned her body to stare at the girl, asking with her eyes to explain why she was so certain. "I've talked with my dad, and he has told me she's taking all A.P. classes."

"Damn," said Stiles, sounding both impressed and proud. "From what you used to say about her, I knew she was smart, but to take all A.P. classes… That's brave. Or completely mental. Or maybe both. Or a mix of-"

"Shut up, Stiles," said Scott and Malia at the same time. The mentioned boy rolled his eyes. He showed them the key of his car and moved it around.

"I've talked with her in the library earlier, but okay, I will shut my pretty mouth."

"You what?" screamed Allison, slapping him on the shoulder. "And you waited all this time to tell us?"

Stiles smirked, running to the driver's side and getting inside. "Want me to take you home or not?" once all his friends were there, he started the car and spoke.

"Isn't it what you did last week?"

The other people in the Jeep all punched him in the shoulder, along with a collective scream of "Stiles!"


	4. But Dad Said "Stay Away from Juliet"

Stiles smiled at his phone, the screen showing four different squares where the faces of his friends could be seen. Kira and Malia together in one, then Scott and lastly Allison. They had been facetiming ever since Stiles had finished eating lunch, to do the math homework collectively because he kept on spamming the groupchat, complaining the exercises were college level (they were not) and saying he had a headache. After they caved in and they all did the homework helping each other, they were finished in a little over an hour, which they all agreed was a good time considering the amount of things they had been tasked to do. Of course, once they could no longer laugh about Scott and Ms Stuart's rivalry, the conversation was bound to driff to another heavy subject.

Lydia.

"I still cannot believe Stiles went on for hours without telling us about his conversation with Lydia," said Allison, who was still a little angry at her friend for keeping something as big as that from them for such a long time. Well, a long time for a teenager.

"And I still can't believe you can not accept an apology," rolled his eyes Stiles.

"I'm going to get you, buzzcut," said the dark haired girl, threatening.

"Hey, I've already grown my hair!" he defended himself. He did not like it when people brought up his past hairstyle from their freshman year. Especially not when it followed with the story of exactly why he had to almost completely shave his head.

"Okay, Kurt Cobain," said Scott in between laughs.

 _Of course they have to bring that up_ , he thought. Stiles used to have shoulder length hair back when he was younger because in his eyes only his mother was allowed to cut it, and the summer they graduated from middle school he had decided to dye it blonde because he was convinced it would look super good on him, and it also felt therapeutical, letting go of his childhood stupid thoughts to open way onto a more mature Stiles who was not haunted by the ghost of his deceased mother. But, long story short, it did not look good at all. So his father had to take him back to the hair salon in the middle of the night to get it fixed. And with that started the joke of Buzzcut Stiles.

"Hey, you were the one who suggested I should get it dyed in the first place. If anything, Kurt Stiles is _your_ fault, not mine. You know how easily influenced I can be," he shot back, the hand that was not holding the phone raised as a finger pointed at the direction where Scott was.

"Okay, that's fair," said the boy, though he still looked far too amused for Stiles' self esteem.

"Oh, crap," Stiles said once he turned his head to the right, where his clock wall rested. "Gotta run, guys. I want to get my father some snacks. You already know he gets in a bad mood when he doesn't eat food for a long time."

"Gotta run as in, he's actually going to run?" Kira asked, acting like the boy had already left the call.

"Probably," Allison raised her shoulders, completely unfazed by Stiles' antics.

"But that's like a few miles," said Kira.

"It's Stiles we're talking about," reminded her Malia.

"Yeah, and Stiles can still hear you," he spoke in a loud voice before grabbing his phone from where he had thrown it at the bed earlier. "Bye. Love you," he smiled, and hung up.

* * *

"Hey, good to see you, officer Clark. You look as lovely as ever," Stiles said as he walked into the station, leaning over the reception desk. Out of the plastic bag he was carrying in his hand, he got out a container and slid it across the counter. "For yours truly. Caesar salad with no nuts, of course, 'cause you're allergic to them."

The girl smiled, grabbing the container and giving him a warm look. "Are you a psychic or something?" she opened the lid, getting the plastic fork out and grabbing the little bags with the condiments in her hand. "How did you know I was hungry?"

"To simply put it, I'm the best," he smiled, stepping inside the station. "I'm going to see my dad, okay?"

"Go ahead," she smiled.

Stiles walked in, looking at the officers in the different desks. For such an untidy and busy environment, it brought a lot of happiness to him. It was somehow his comfort place, had been ever since he was a kid.

"Yo, Parrish," he called, throwing a small bag of Skittles at the boy, who did not react on time due to be attending a phone call and got slapped on the face by them. "Sorry," he said, and he kept walking to the Sheriff's office. "Hey, dad," he walked in without knocking, and saw him sitting on his desk, writing down something on a piece of paper.

"Stiles," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hey, son, how are you?" Stiles gasped for air dramatically at his question, sitting on the chair opposite to his. "Did you run here all the way from home?" 

"Yes," his father gave him that look he was pretty familiar with. The _"I can't believe I raised you and you still ended up like this"_.

"How many times do I have to tell you the station is not home and you can't just walk in without knocking?" he asked, dropping his pen and looking up at his son. His eyes inspected the bag he had in his hand, and smiled.

"Yeah, a lot of times. Sorry about that," he said, dropping the bag on his desk. The man got the container out. "A piece of that cheesecake that you adore more than you adore me."

Noah rolled his eyes, but opened the lid anyways. "I love you," he said, a spoon halfway in his mouth.

"Are you talking to the cheesecake?" Stiles asked, faking hurt.

"Of course not," he said after he had swallowed. "Why don't you wait for me outside as I finish with paperwork? We can leave early and cook some dinner together at home."

"Sure," he nodded, walking out the office. "There's a bottle of water in the bag," he called out as he closed the door.

"Love you!"

"And he's still talking to the cheesecake," he murmured as he closed the door, standing there for a few seconds as he tried to find his phone in all of his multiple pockets.

He sat down in one of the many chairs that were in the station for civilians waiting to be attended, and scrolled through his phone, replying to a few messages on the groupchat. After he got bored, he locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket, getting up again and walking around the station to find something he could do to distract himself as he waited.

He stopped on his tracks when he saw strawberry blonde hair sitting in a chair outside one of the offices. She was crouching down as she stared at a book, reading it carefully. Stiles could not control himself as he started walking towards the girl, his feet carrying him as if he was a moth, and the her red hair flames that called out for him.

He stopped in front of her, hands in his pockets as he swinged back and forth, waiting for her to notice him. Once it was clear she was unaware of him, or was ignoring him, he decided to speak. "Hey, Lydia" he sat on the chair next to hers, and the girl sighed and closed the book, eyes on the cover.

"What, are you stalking me now or something?" she asked.

"No, no. My dad… He's the sheriff. I got here to bring him some food. He gets moody when he gets home and hasn't eat in a really long time so I have to constantly come here- not that I mind, really, but-"

"I was reading," she cut him, clearly exasperated.

"Sorry. What I was trying to say is that I'm not a stalker, or a creeper -not the monsters from Minecraft; though I'm not one of those either. Duh, right? But, uh, you don't need a restraint order on me or something," he joked, smiling a little until he noticed Lydia had completely tensed at his words. Shoving her book into her purse, she got up and for the first time, looked at him.

"Has your father told you something? Had you been investigating me?" she all but screamed, her green eyes looking almost red from the intensity of them. She crossed her arms, clearly waiting for an answer.

Stiles got up as well, feeling small under her stare. He raised his arms in a sign of peace, confusion clear on his face. "No. I'm sorry, that was just a joke. I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable, or tired, or… I always make jokes, and sometimes they suck. Sorry," he watched as she sighed and sat down again. He followed shortly after.

"Sorry for screaming," she whispered, pulling her book back out and opening it to the page she was reading previously.

"It's nothing," he said softly, not understanding her discomfort but aware of it. "So, why are you here exactly?"

"Oh, my mom is reporting a group of five teenagers that broke into our house last week," she said casually, turning the page of her book and looking modest and well-collected, as if she had not been screaming just a few minutes before.

"It's not a break in if the door is open," he said, then cursed under his breath when he realised he had basically confessed his crime in the police station, surrounded by police officers.

"Yes, you're going to be a great detective," she said, humour and sarcasm dancing in her voice.

"Listen, we didn't mean to-"

"Yeah, like all those people who had come in to knock at our door, or that Senior that faked his car had broken down in front of our house to get us to help him and invite him inside. But we are not here for that, we knew it was bound to happen anyways," she commented airly, as if having her privacy violated by the entire town was something normal. But Stiles had no say in that, since he had pretty much done the same thing.

"A senior-"

"Jackson. Still a jackass, for what I can tell," she said. It made him anxious that she was speaking with him but kept her head down, but at the very least she was talking with him.

"Jackson Whittemore?" he said.

"The one and only."

"Yep, I figured," he cleared his throat. "So, why are you here then if it's not about the harassment?" he tried again.

"My mom wants to speak with the police," she murmured, as if she was trying not to get heard.

"Why?"

"I don't know," she said, raising her shoulders. Stiles could tell she was lying.

"Lydia, sweetheart," said a voice in front of them, and only then did Stiles stopped staring at the curtain of red hair that hid her soft features. "Who is this young, handsome man?"

"More like a boy," she said, closing the book and getting up, walking until she was standing by her side.

Stiles sat up as well. "Stiles Stilinski, ma'am."

"Natalie Martin," she took his offered right hand for a handshake. "My my, quiet a strong hold you have there," she said, raising her eyebrows at her daughter. "Stilinski, did you say? Like the sheriff?"

"Yes, he's my father," she quickly dropped his hand, a small look of panic crossing through her face as she looked at her daughter, who had the same look in her eyes. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, but we are in a hurry. Goodbye."

They left without waiting for his answer, Natalie's arm wrapped around Lydia's shoulder. She was leaning into her touch, which meant she was not uncomfortable with it.

"Hey, son," said Noah. "I gotta talk with Smith real quick, but then we can leave," Stiles nodded, mind still lost in the exchange he had just had with the Martins. He watched as his father walked to the room Natalie had just left. He closed the door after him, and after a few minutes he was out again, a strange look on his face. "Let's go home," he smiled.

They left the station after his father had said goodbye and had put on his coat, because even if it was still September the afternoon air was chilly.

"So," said Noah once they were inside the car driving home. "School called this morning to tell me you weren't in math class today."

"Oh," he scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I got a little lost talking with Lydia," he said, because a half-lie felt better than a complete one.

"Lydia? Lydia Martin?" he asked. "The girl whose mother had just been talking to officer Smith?"

"Yep."

He moved in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "Listen, son…" he cleared his throat. "Maybe it would be wise if you stayed away from her and her family."

Stiles turned his neck to look at his father. "What? Why?"

"Well…" he moved his hands against the steering wheel. "I'm not allowed to tell you this, but her mother has asked us to keep a look on her, something about having some issues since her dad..."

"Her dad, what?" he asked, exasperated.

"Nevermind, son. Let's just go home."


	5. It Must Seems Like I've Lost My Mind

Stiles kept to himself the conversation he had had with his father on the way home on Monday, but he did mention to his friends that she had seen her at the station with her mother, and her weird behaviour when he had mentioned his father was the sheriff. They all seem to have come to the same conclusion; there was definitely something else behind the reason the Martins left town than a simple change of heart.

"No, Stiles, it's none of our damn business," repeated Kira, fed up with Stiles' antics.

"I think someone's still not over his little kindergarten crush," sang Allison.

"What?" screamed Stiles, cheeks completely red. "No- that's not it! Shut up, Argent. No, I- um, I just want to help her," said the boy, laying his head on the table. They were on the last lunch break of the week, but no one seemed especially in the mood to eat. His eyes traveled to the table where Lydia was sitting, all by herself. She was not eating, but instead reading a book with her headphones on. To be fair, she was really good at pretending she was not aware that the entire cafeteria was staring at her.

The cook of Beacon Hills High School, Barbara, approached the girl, a plate with a piece of cake in hand. She put in front of her on the table, and waited until Lydia looked up.

"Uh," she said, yanking her headphones off her ears. "I didn't order anything. Sorry."

"This one's on me," she took a look around, noticing the usual murmur that buzzed around the cafeteria had reduced significantly. Sighing, she looked back at the girl, who had closed her book but was staring at the table, ashamed of being stared at like she was some type of freak. "Come on; get up. You can have lunch on the back with me, away from these creeps that all they can do is stare," she smiled kindly.

Lydia seemed to consider it for just a few seconds before she had put her messenger bag over her shoulder and shoved her book and phone inside. Barbara grabbed the plate and directed her behind the food counters and into the back door. Stiles remembered the place, as once while he and Scott played lacrosse he had fallen and hit his wrist. It had swelled up pretty badly, and Barbara had taken him there to grab some ice from the fridge and put it in his wrist as he waited for his dad to come pick him up.

Long story short, if you had an injury in Beacon Hills, better go to Barbara than the nurse's office.

"Are we going to do something today?" asked Allison, her eyes still on the place Lydia had disappeared from.

"Yeah, that'd be fun," Kira smiled.

"I can't today," said Scott, shaking his head. "Deaton came back last night and he's opening the clinic today."

"Aw, Scotty has work to do," mocked Allison. "You're such a grown man, what a shame you still can't grow a bear," she said, fingers running over his chin.

"Yeah, whatever. I hate you guys."

* * *

"Lydia!" called out Natalie from somewhere in the big house. The girl closed her magazine and sighed, and then got up and walked out of her room, down the stairs, her bare feet hitting the cold floor. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking around to try and find her mother.

"Mom?" she asked.

"In the kitchen," she said, and Lydia nodded. She walked to the place where her mother was, and stood by the doorway, looking as her mother cooked. It reminded her of when they used to live in the very same house she was yet again living in. She had shared so many good memories, most of them with Scott and Allison, but they had a bittersweet taste to them now, after what happened. "Lydia, honey, are you okay?" she asked, dropping the ladle she was using to stir the soup into the kitchen sink.

"Yeah," she said, blinking back the sudden tears that had started to fall from her eyes.

Natalie looked at her, giving the _'I gave birth to you and I can tell perfectly well when you are lying to my face'_ look that was so typical of mothers. "If you want to tell me something, you know you can, right?" she closed the distance between them, hands going up to rest on her cheeks. "What is wrong?"

"I miss them," she said finally, after being quiet for a while. "Allison and Scott. Like, before, when we were in California I kind of forgot about them, and I know that makes me an asshole but- after we went away, I Ieft a part of me here too; most of our memories from before-" she stopped herself, not wanting to go down that route. It was never good for her mental health. "But this place is full of them, everywhere I look… And I kinda feel bad because since we've come back I've been ignoring them, and-"

"I bet they will understand if you explain it to them the way you are doing it to me now," she said, pulling her into a hug. Her heart hurt from her daughter, who had already gone through so much. "It has been a hard change for you, going back to your childhood home after teen years. It wouldn't be an easy situation to adjust to for anyone, especially not for you."

Lydia rested her head on her mother's shoulder, sniffing. "I know, but…"

"Can I ask you why you've been ignoring them?" she said softly, stepping away from the hug and drying the leftover of tears that were still on her face.

"It's nothing, don't worry," she said, but judging by the look her mother was giving her, she could only assume Natalie knew she was lying. But her mother, despite her flaws, knew when Lydia did not want to be forced into having a conversation she did not want to have, so she stayed quiet, nodding softly.

"Okay, whatever you say. How about you try to talk with them from now on? Maybe just some small talk, a little wave when you see them at school… Little gestures can mean so much to others," suggested her mother. "I saw you were talking with the Stilinski boy the other day, and as you've told me, he's friends with Allison and Scott. Maybe you can start with that."

"I'm not sure, mom…" she said, going through the possibilities in her mind.

"If they care about you, they won't mind waiting a little more until you're comfortable sharing your story with them."

Lydia physically cringed at the thought. She shook her head. "No, no. _No_ . No way. I'm- I'm not telling them about-" she shook her head multiple times. "I'm not telling them about _that_. No. Never."

"Lydia, we've been through this already," she said, sounding pained and tired. Lydia looked away, hating seeing that look on her mother's face. She had seen it too many times over the past few years.

"I know, I know," she said. "I'm trying, okay? I'm going to get better. I will, mom. I have to. I will try. For you, I promise I will try. I'm going to, and I'll be fine again. _We_ will be fine again; you and I."

"Okay, baby," Natalie raised a hand to her cheek, caressing it delicately. She wished she could get it through Lydia's head that she did not have to carry Natalie's grudges and problems onto her back: that she was just a kid and had to stop blaming herself for everything, for _that_. If anything, it was her fault for ignoring the warning signs.

But that part of the past. They were back here to forget about it, and create new and happier memories.

"So, what did you call me for? I was reading this new article about how the British economy is going to fracture in a few years if they don't do something about the inflation on the pound."

Her mother smiled. "Well, once you're done with it, I want to read it too. Maybe we can compare notes afterwards," she winked, knowing that was bound to put her in a good mood. "And, I wanted to ask you if you can take Prada out."

She moaned, clearly unhappy with the task she had been given. "But, mom…"

"No buts, young lady," she mocked a threat, walking back to the stove to continue stirring the soup. "Go take her up, I've been doing it ever since we moved here. Plus, it will do you well to breathe some fresh air. You've barely gone outside since we've come back, and you're already pale even when you're at the sun frequently. I don't want to imagine how you will look if you stay holed up in your room reading math and economics magazines all day long," she said it all within a few breaths.

"Okay, fine. Prada, where are you?" she asked, grabbing her pink leash. The small dog ran up to her, standing on her two back legs to look at Lydia. "Let's go for a walk, my sweet and precious little girl," she said, in a baby voice. The dog barked happily at her.

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour!" called Natalie. "Be back before that."

"Okay," she replied. Lydia put the leash on the dog and opened the door, smiling softly as she watched Prada jump happily around. "Love you, mom," she said before closing the door.

"I love you too, Lydia," said Natalie.

* * *

Lydia cautiously took a look around the outside of the property, eyes carefully scanning its surroundings. Once she was sure there was no one outside, she opened the gates and stepped outside with Prada a few steps ahead of her. She closed and locked the gates and started walking by the side of the road, eyes never leaving the dog as it ran and sniffed around, her small body full of happiness as she inspected everything, stopping a couple of times to pee a little on the wall.

"My god, Prada, stop marking every single spot in town and poop already so we can get this over with," she said in a low voice, head raised as she noticed the sun was beginning to set. All in all, she could not believe she was spending her Friday night waiting for a tiny dog to poop. Prada, however, ignored her, stopping again to pee on another corner. "For such a small body, you can hold a lot of liquid inside of you," she murmured.

Lydia signed, getting her phone out to check the time. Only five minutes since she had left the house, yet it left like an eternity.

She looked away from her phone quickly when she heard Prada moan in pain. She saw her licking her front paw. Behind her there was a small tree branch, and Lydia understood in seconds: Prada had stumbled over it, and had hurt herself.

"Oh, god," she dropped the phone, ignoring the cracking sound that came from it, and kneeled down to get the dog in her arms. Despite looking a little lost and her front paw shaking slightly, she seemed okay. But she could not risk it.

Grabbing her phone from the floor, she searched up the direction of the veterinary place in town, and once she saw it was just a few minutes away from her on foot, she started running. "You'll be fine. I promise," she kissed Prada's head, tears starting to form in her eyes.

Time felt like blur, and soon enough she was standing in front of the place, that luckily was still open. She walked inside, a ringing indicating someone had opened the door, and ran to the desk.

"Someone, please help," she said in a loud voice, the desperation only growing stronger when Prada cuddled closer to her body. "Hey, is someone-"

"Lydia?" asked the voice of a boy that the strawberry blonde knew quite good, or at least used to.

"Scott?" she shook her head. It was not the time to get distracted. "I need help. She- Prada-" she sobbed, and walked through the counter when Scott raised the piece of wood for her. He indicated to walk through a door, and she did not hesitate for one second.

"Here, follow me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, let me know how you are liking the story so far!


	6. Walking On Broken Cobblestones

"Tell me what happened," Scott said softly, turning on the light of the room. Lydia took a look around the place, and set Prada down onto the small metallic bed when he indicated her to with his arms. She noticed her hands were still shaking, so she intertwined them together in front of her to stop the movement.

It took her a moment to understand he had asked her a question, and was waiting for an answer as he stood by the other side of the bed. She looked at Prada, who was laying down to avoid putting weight on her paw, and she was taken back by how small she looked. Had the situation been different, she would have probably laughed and taken a picture to send it to her mother.

“Lydia?” he asked, his hands around the dog’s body to try and see what was wrong with her.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head to concentrate on what was happening. It was not the time to have a panic attack, not when Prada needed her. “She- well, I was taking her out for a walk and she- I was distracted- Gosh, I’m so fucking stupid,” she laughed weakly, tears forming in her eyes yet again. “I wasn’t paying attention and- I didn’t notice there was a tree branch on the ground and- and she’s so small. My god, how can she be so small?” she looked at Scott, who had a mixture of confusion and understanding flashing in his eyes.

“Lydia, it’s okay,” he said softly. “What’s her name?”

“Prada,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “She was limping, and- I don’t know, I completely freaked out and ran here as fast as I could but- Please, tell me she is going to be okay. I- I need her to be okay. She has to be.”

“She is going to be just fine, I promise,” he reassured her. “Now, Prada, let’s make sure you are okay so mom can stop freaking out, all right?” the dog, much more calmed, barked up at him. “Okay, let me see,” he looked back at Lydia, who had her eyes set on the dog. “Do you know which paw did she hurt?”

Lydia raised her head to look at the boy, and for a moment, it seemed as if time had stopped. Her eyes were the same shade of green he had stared at when she had fallen down and broke her wrist. It had taken him and Allison months to convince her to learn how to ride a skate, so that the three of them could walk around town riding skates and looking cool. But of course, Lydia was clumsy back then, and she had fallen the moment both feet were on the skateboard. Scott could almost hear her cries again, mixed with the ambulance sirens in an anxious melody, on the ride to the hospital, where he had hold onto her hand that was not injured and had told her time and time again that she was okay, that he was there for her even if they had to cut her hand off. Allison had been allowed to go with them (despite the only one companion rule) only because the ambulance driver knew Scott was Melissa’s son, and because Allison had impressive lungs for a six years-old. They had both been there for her as she had for them, and now she treated them like complete strangers.

She cleared her throat, eyes back to the dog. “The left one.”

Scott had to blink a few times before he understood that she was answering his question. He nodded, shaking his head to get rid of those memories. They were just that for him; memories of a girl that no longer existed, that had changed without him being there to witness.

"Okay," he carefully lifted the dog, forcing it to stand up. The dog complained a little when she put pressure on her left paw, and Lydia instantly stepped closer, no doubt getting ready in case she had to help her. Scott however raised a hand, indicating the strawberry blonde she should not get involved. He grabbed the paw, turning it in his hand with a twist of his wrist. "There's nothing broken," he assured her. The palm of his hand set on something hard, and he knitted his eyebrows together. Turning the paw slowly, he noticed a small pebble that was stuck in the palm of it. "Ah, there we have it," he said, turning around to grab a pair of surgical tongs. Once he had it in his hand, he faced Prada again.

"There we have, what?" asked Lydia, exasperated. She looked on the bridge of passing out, and Scott rushed to calm her down.

"She got a pebble stuck when she fell; it's nothing. See?" he said, tongs grabbing the small rock and taking it out. He raised it to show it to Lydia, who had to step closer to be able to see it properly. "All good now."

Prada barked, licking his hand as a way of thanking him for his service. "Oh, sweetheart, don't scare me like that again, please," she kneeled down in front of the dog so they could be eye to eye. Prada barked, her tail moving all over the place. It was clear she was no longer in pain. "Luckily it was nothing too serious," she stopped, standing up. "It was nothing serious, right?"

"Yes, yes," he nodded. "Prada is totally fine. However, I'm going to bandage her paw just in case, so she doesn't get an infection, but really, Lydia, everything is okay," he raised a hand, stretching and setting it in her shoulder. The girl, who was caught completely off guard by the action, cringed at the feel of his hand, her body contouring awkwardly so he was no longer touching her. She had a pained look on her face, but it did not hide the actual, uncontrollable fear he saw in her eyes.

"Sorry," she whispered ashamed once there was some distance between them, eyes on the ground. Her hands were twisting between each other, and Scott recognised that that tick still reminded; she used to do that with her hands when she was uncomfortable, or ashamed of something.

He felt his heart break at the sight. Lydia Martin, who used to hug him every other moment just because, stepping away from him as if he was fire, and his touch had burnt her.

"Sorry," she repeated, louder. Her fingers intertwined with each other in a frenetic manner. "Sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I- it's just…" she ran a hand through her hair, eyes staring at him with desperation, as if they were begging him to understand. "God, I'm so sorry. It's just-"

"Hey, don't worry," he said, raising his shoulders and smiling, as if it did not mean a thing to him. He turned around quickly to blink away the tears, as he pretended he was searching for a bandage. "It's okay, really," he said once he was looking at her again.

"No, it's not. I'm trying to get better, I promise-"

"Lydia," he interrupted her. "It's okay. I got you."

The words seem to knock the air out of her lungs, and he felt some satisfaction in the knowledge that, despite everything, despite how much she had seemed to change, she still remembered his promise, and he still stood by it.

"Okay," she said in a soft voice. Her phone rang, and she got it out of her pocket. The screen was so cracked, Scott was surprised it even worked, but yet again his phone had been in a similar state for months and still did the job. "It's my mom. I have to pick it up."

"Go ahead," he nodded. "I'll bandage her up and she'll be ready to go."

"Okay," she moved her thumb through the screen and then put the phone on her ear. "Hey, mom," she said, turning around. Scott began working on the dog, pretending not to hear the conversation. "No, yeah, I know… It's Prada, she fell and was limping. Yeah, I totally freaked out. I ran with her in my arms to the pet clinic… No, Deaton was not in here. In fact," she turned around slightly, looking at the boy. "Scott was in here," she stopped talking. "Yes, Scott McCall. Jesus, mom, how many teenage boys do you know that are called Scott McCall?" she took a big breath. "Yes, that one. Yes, that Allison. Yes, that Stiles too. No, it's not his real name. Ugh, mom, no I don't. Gosh, you're impossible. No, he works here. Well, I haven't asked but I hope so… That or he is a very kind robber," there was a hint of a smile on her tone, and Scott bit his lip. The relationship between Lydia and Natalie had not changed, he noted. They used to have the same easy-going way of talking, and even when they were kids, sometimes Scott forgot Natalie was her mother and not another one of Lydia's friends. It was nice knowing they were still on good terms, and had the same fun chin-wag between each other. "No, Prada is totally fine," another long pause. "Okay, fine, I'll wait for you outside," she hung up, cutting her mother mid-sentence.

"She's ready," smiled the boy, pointing with his hands at the dog. Lydia sighed, walking up to the dog.

"Do not scare me like that ever again, okay?" she asked the dog, grabbing her chin in her hand. Prada licked her nose. She looked at him. "I'm sorry for freaking out before. I must have looked insane…" she searched in his eyes some kind of confirmation that he thought so, but found nothing. At that, her lips twisted upwards a little, but she managed to hide her smile just fine. "It's just... Prada was my- she belonged to a close family member and... She has helped me a lot. I would go insane if she was seriously hurt, especially because I was distracted."

"Hey, don't worry," he smiled. "It's normal. Once Allison came in running in the middle of a storm because there was a dog by the sidelines who looked hurt. And there was this other time an old woman almost broke down the glass doors with her wheelchair because her bird was choking. Believe me, I know how people can get over their pets," he smiled, hoping knowing what she did was completely normal would help her feel less embarrassed. 

"Wow, this town is really full of crazy people, uh?" she twisted a piece of hair between her fingers. "Listen, what happened earlier when you touched me-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he declared, winking at her. If it had affected her on such a psychological level, he could only assume it was something she would not want him to go parading around town. Not that he would anyways, but if she needed the reassurance to feel better, then of course he could not deny it to her. Especially not when it took him so little to do on his behalf.

"Thanks," she smiled, dimples popping out from her cheeks. He used to make her laugh a lot, and then stick a finger in the dimple. He did the same with Allison even now, and it had a level of intimacy to it he was sure she would not appreciate.

"So…" he said, trying to keep the conversation going, but unsure on how to do it. But this had been by far the closest he had been to speaking with her ever since she came back, and he wanted to desperately hold onto that chance.

"How much do I own you?" she asked, hand on her purse as she searched for her wallet.

"Nothing," he said, raising his hands. "Don't worry about it."

"But I made you waste your time," she said. Scott felt sadness at her words; for her to think she was a bother, that he would annoy him if she approached her… It was unbearable to think of for him.

"You could never waste my time, Lyds," he all but whispered, his hand raising for the table to rest in on hers before he stopped himself. He dropped it back, and smiled at her. "Never. Don't ever think that for one second, please."

"Okay…"

"You can do something to pay for my services," he said, heart beating fast in his chest.

She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his outburst. "And what is it?"

"Give me your phone," he said. Only once the words had left his mouth did he realised his mistake. "To talk! Uh- So we can catch up, y'know. Maybe meet up for some coffee with Allison."

The girl cringed softly at the name. "Uh, I don't know... I- well, I don't have a phone. My mom is a little strict with that type of stuff."

It was Scott's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Oh, is that so?"

"Yep," she nodded.

"Then what do you have in your hand?"

Lydia looked at her left hand, that was still holding her phone. "Fuck," she said, closing her eyes. To his amusement, she shoved the phone into her back pocket and crossed her arms around her chest, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Scott shook his head. "How about I give you my number, so you can call me. You know, once you get a phone, of course."

Her cheeks were pink as she grabbed the piece of paper where he had scribbled down his phone number. Without saying another word, she left with Prada well secured in her arms.


	7. Loosing a Friend Like Money on a Bad Bet

“So, let me get this straight-“ Malia sighed. “Yeah, I know, I said straight. Haha. Grow the fuck up already, Stiles, you are seventeen, it’s about time you mature.”

Allison rolled her eyes, looking at Scott, ignoring Malia and Stiles, who were once again arguing at the top of their lungs. “So you think this is a good idea?” she looked around the room, questioning her friends with her eyes. “Like, an actual good idea? To… Just go there and look around?” she made a face, clearly not happy with the thought. “I don’t know, guys, it feels too invasive. I’m not even sure it’s legal to do something like that,” she said, crossing her arms around her chest.

“It is legal, believe me. I’ve searched it up yesterday,” said Stiles, trying to calm down her anxiety. He had stopped talking with Malia abruptly, who rolled her eyes and pulled his hair in complaint for being ignored until Kira swapped her hand away. “Also, there is no way of proving we were there to look for information. We can say we got lost; we can even pretend we got drunk and were just wandering around town,” he suggested.

“Stiles, that is illegal. None of us is of age to drink yet,” said Kira, her voice calm as she tried to reason with the boy. They were all aware of how he was when he had his mind set on something, and ever since Lydia walked down the halls of Beacon Hills High School, he had seemed to be functioning in autopilot, his entire focus on the girl and the mystery that surrounded her.

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” Allison rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, I think this is crossing a line. I get you want to solve the mystery, Stiles, I really do, but we can’t be so frivolous about this; this is not a TV show or a crime novel, we are talking about actual human beings, a family that has already suffered enough and has the entire town looking at them with a close look. This is more than this, bigger than us. I thought you said you wanted to help Lydia, that you cared about her even,” she said with an accusing tone on her voice. No matter how much time had passed, to Allison Lydia will always be someone she had to protect from everything, and if it included one of her closest friends, she did not care one bit.

Stiles hesitated for a moment, finding the right words to say so his logic would not look like complete craziness. “I do, but I can’t if I don’t know what happened; if I don’t know what is happening with her _now_.”

“Stiles…”

“Allison,” he cut her off. “For ten years, all we’ve heard is people talk about it, but we never got a good lead. This is our chance.”

“No, _this is Lydia_! This has nothing to do with the fucking mystery of why the Martins left,” she raised her hands up in the air, tired of her friend’s actions and words; Stiles would find a loophole in every argument no matter what. He would be a brilliant attorney if he put more dedication in school and raised up his grades a little. “You just want to know what happened, like everyone else. Hell, I’m dying to know it too, but this is not the right way to do it. I don’t think this is the right move. If Lydia finds out…”

“She won’t,” promised Scott. His girlfriend looked at him in disbelief.

“So you are okay with this- this _stupid_ _plan_?” she was looking at him like she was seeing him for the first time ever, as if she did not know him at all, at least not how she thought she did. She had never stared at Scott like that, and it was a look he did not like one bit.

He got up and grabbed her arm, pulling her into the corridor of the Stilinski home, where everyone had gathered around to hear Scott’s story. “Listen, Allison, you didn’t see her back there. When I touched her…” his eyes fogged a little, no doubt reliving in his mind what had happened the night before. “She went completely tense; she didn’t want to be near me. I’ve never seen her so scared before, _ever_ , Ally, and I- _we_ need to know why she left, because if she is being in any way abused by her parents- by her mother… We need a strong lead before we go to the police, and if she actually needs help and we blow this up before we have it, who is to say they won’t leave again, without coming back for real this time? How will we be able to help, then?”

Allison gasped, raising one hand to rest it against the wall, trying to gain the air his words had knocked out of her lungs. “My god…” she whispered. Her eyes were hard on his. “Do you really think she is being abused by her parents? Stiles said Lydia and Natalie seemed to be in complete ease with each other.”

“Yeah, well… People stay in toxic relationships because they know no better; because they are led to believe by the abuser that they deserve that type of love, or because they think they will be completely alone if they leave that relationship. Hell, most of the time someone can look like the happiest person ever and still could be suffering inside the most unbearable pain ever. We really don’t know what someone is going through, but what I do know is that Lydia needs our help, and I’m going to try my best to ensure she is okay.”

“Okay, fine,” she sighed, walking back to the room. She looked at her friends, who were all looking back at her, expecting. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Yay,” said Malia sarcastically.

“But,” said Allison, raising a finger. “I’m not going with you. I still think it’s invasive.”

“Well, I kinda guessed it,” Stiles got up from his bed. “Okay, let’s go. We have a cemetery to visit.”

* * *

“What’ his name again?” whispered Kira, looking around the graveyard.

“Nick Martin,” said Scott, in the same hushed tone.

“You guys know we are allowed to be here, right?” asked Malia, looking at her girlfriend and friend, who were both looking around to try not to get caught. “We are not going to exhume anyone to use their bones for a cult sacrifice, we are just taking a look around.”

“Because it’s super casual to take walks around cemeteries with your best friends,” said Kira, her voice still low.

“In Beacon Hills it is,” said Stiles, who was a little ahead of Scott and Kira, with Malia close at his elbow.

“I should have stayed with Allison,” said Kira. “This place creeps me out.”

“Yeah,” agreed Scott. His eyes seem to be everywhere all at once.

“Hold on a second,” said Stiles, stopping all of the sudden. The other three stopped as well, and they formed a circle so they were all facing each other. “Is her father from Beacon Hills? Like, was he born here?” he asked Scott, who was the only one in there that could possibly know the answer to that question.

“No,” said Scott. “He moved in here with Natalie when they got married. I think they met in college or something like that.”

“That is not good,” Stiles said.

“Please, elaborate,” said Malia.

“Yeah, and be fast,” chimed in Kira.

“Okay. There is like, eight-five percent chance that, if he is dead, he is not buried in here.”

“Wait, what? What does it have to do with all this?”

“A lot of families have their deceased relatives buried in their hometown when they are living somewhere else. It’s pretty common, especially with young people who move from home for college and then stay there because of job opportunities. So, I don’t think his family would want him in a forgotten town far away from them, where they can't go visit them,” said Stiles.

“Fuck,” said Scott.

“Couldn’t you have thought of it before we wasted our time?” Malia slapped the back of his head.

“Couldn’t you have done it?”

“Well, who is the future detective who can solve any mystery-“

“Okay, no. Nope. You guys are not fighting in the middle of a _graveyard._ ”

“You’re right. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” said Stiles. “But I think we should check anyway, y’know, just in case. You never know, right?”

They all nodded, and kept walking for a while until Malia, who had gone a little to the left, called them over. They walked to where Malia was, noticing a tomb that seemed to be newer than the rest, as if it had just been placed there. Scott’s heart jumped on his chest as the thought crossed his mind.

"Who is Lorraine Martin?" asked Kira, looking over Malia’s arm to the newest tomb that was surrounded by others, most of them going by the Martin surname.

"She was my grandmother," said a voice behind them. They all jumped at the sound, and turned around to see strawberry blonde hair. Her body was covered by a blue dress with matching high heels, and to their surprise she was wearing no make-up. She was carrying a bouquet of colourful flowers in her hands, and looked like she was seconds away from throwing it at their faces.

"Jesus Christ, Lydia, you can't just go around sneaking on people in a cemetery," said Stiles, a hand on his chest as he tried to control his breathing, clearly agitated by the girl.

"Oh, but you can go around looking at my deceased relatives like it was a playdate?" she asked in a sarcastic tone. Behind the anger in her eyes, the hurt filling her insides could be seen as clear as water.

"These are your relatives?" tried to cover Malia. Kira hit her in the ribs with her elbow.

"Do you know any other Martins that have been living for decades in Beacon Hills?" she shot back, one hand leaving the bouquet to rest against her hips.

"Um- We're so sorry, Lydia-"

"Don't even bother," she shook her head, completely ignoring them as she stepped onto the tomb they had just been looking at. She kneeled down and, after a few seconds of silence, she put the bouquet of flowers down onto the ground and got up, dusting off invisible dirt off of her clothes. Finally, she turned around. "What, want to know if someone from my family died the year we left?" when the silence confirmed her suspicions, she pursed her lips, head raised as she stared at the sun, clearly not wanting them to know she was on the bridge of crying. "I should have known better. All the _'We are here for you'_ ," she looked at Scott. "Those _'You're my friend'_ ," eyes went to the left, where Stiles was. "All _bullshit_ just to discover something that doesn't even affect or involve you. I'm not your friend, I'm just a little mystery you guys want to solve to look cool in front of the entire school," she shook her head, in disbelief. "You know what? Fuck you, all of you," she said, walking away.

* * *

Lydia opened the door of her room, completely ignoring her mother’s calls. She jumped into bed, head buried in the pillow as she let the tears out.

“Lydia, honey, please tell me what happened,” begged her mother, opening the door softly.

“No. I don’t want to.”

“Lydia-“

“Go! Just go! Leave me alone, now. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk with you.”

“But-“

“Leave. Out!” she threw a pillow at the door, and Natalie had little time to react and cover herself with the pillow. When she saw the door open again, she got and walked up to it, face red from the tears and the anger. She grabbed the handle and forced the door close, locking it. “This is all _your fault_!” she screamed, leaning against the door until she was sitting on the floor. Once there, she started to cry.

* * *

_**23:44  
Hey, Allison** _

_**00:10  
Sorry for bothering you** _

_**00:11  
This is Lydia** _

_**00:11  
Lydia Martin** _

_**00:15  
Can we talk?** _


End file.
